


Save Me

by spacefucker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Be Careful What You Wish For, Broken Steve, Complicated Relationships, Implied Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecurity, Literal AU, M/M, Multiverse, Nightmares, PTSD, Self-Hatred, Steve Needs a Hug, Tough choices, angst angst angst, broken and beaten, gratuitous depiction of violence, happy ending but at a cost, i will update when i can, lmao who am i kidding, so anyway this is really sad buckle up buckaroo, so it should be done within the next 29 days, so much plot u guys, so very sad, sort of major character death but only like in one universe?, technically cheating???, the world has gone to shit for Alt. Steve, this is a 30 day challenge that has turned into a full-on story, u asked for more angst so i am giving it to you boy howdy, whoops i've made myself sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7120126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacefucker/pseuds/spacefucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is thrust into an alternate universe where Steve's alone. Suspicious, tired, and broken, Steve tells Tony a tale that is much darker than his own. Neither of them are quite willing to let each other go. It feels like a race against time while they try to rebuild a crumbling world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

“I’m hard pressed to believe you.”

“Even when the evidence points to the contrary?” Tony huffed. “Believe it or not. I don’t care. Back home, we’re married. Though, at least there you only had a stick up your ass.” He wiped the blood off his forehead. Damn, head wounds bleed like something awful. “Here, I would be ‘hard pressed’ to find out that you, in fact, don’t have a lump of coal up your star-spangled derriere that you’re trying desperately to turn into diamond.”

Steve made a face, the same pinched look that His Steve had, and Tony swallowed back a rise of longing. Tony was on the ground and very much wanted to stand but was currently being lorded over by His Steve’s unfortunate, alternate-universe clone. Cylon? Was that right? Battlestar Galactica was forever ago.

'The Night the Cylons Landed' aside – circa 1980 – apparently Alt. Steve feat. Maximum Angst was unimpressed with the whole concept of inter-dimensional travel, worm-holes, and multiverse theory. Which was a super turn-off he might add. Internal monologue was put on hold while he tried to focus on Alt. Steve and listen to Jarvis rattle off whatever calculations he was depressing Tony with about the probability of getting back home.

“Start from the beginning, Stark,” Steve spit, “and tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

“Well, first off, I gotta say that your interrogation technique is a bit flawed.” Tony blinked his eyes through a haze of blood. “Never start with the head the victim gets all fuzzy.” 

“Perhaps this isn’t the time to quote The Dark Night, sir.” Jarvis quipped. 

Tony ignored him.

“Look.” Tony said, holding one hand up and leaning back on his other, his suit in shambles behind him. “Let me talk to the Tony Stark that’s here. I’m sure between the two of us not only will you get off my ass but I can find a way home.”

Steve looked stricken for a moment. A flash of pain, the kind of which Tony couldn’t place, crossed his face. Steve shifted his footing and dropped his shield to his side. As far as Tony could tell they were in the Tower but it looked to be in shambles. 

They were in what Tony assumed used to be his penthouse, what was left of it anyway. It was night, cool air breezing through broken glass windows and a curiously silent city-scape bellow. Way too surreal for his liking.

“Look around you.” Steve said, softer this time, and Tony bit back a smartass remark. 

Instead of taking his surroundings in a second time, he took stock of Alt. Steve.

He was ragged, hair too long and face haggard. He was older now, but by how much he wasn’t sure. The Serum was –dicey, to say the least- and they’d never quite figured out exactly what that meant for the aging process. 

“Wanna tell me what happened here, Rogers?” Tony spoke, quietly, almost in a whisper.

Steve brought a gun from his waistband and cocked it, pointing it right in Tony’s face, and sat down heavily. 

“I asked first.” Steve said with a sigh. “I’m tired, Tony. So tell me. Everything.”

The gun didn’t shake and his mouth was set with resolve but Steve’s eyes told everything. Like they usually did and Tony could reasonably guarantee that was probably a constant in every conceivable universe. Those eyes did things to Tony and he never could deny them.

“After the accords, after Bucky, after seeing my parents killed,” Tony swallowed, “after our fight, there was a long period of time where the whole world seemed to fall to shit.”

Steve looked on, blank face betrayed by the slightest facial tic at the mention of Bucky. 

“Bucky had opted to go back into cryo under the help of Blank Panther in Wakanda. You went to ground, along with every other hero that had half a brain, and I was left trying to pull the team back together.” Tony sighed and ran a hand over his face before laying back slowly on the smooth, cool marble floor. “Eventually, Bruce and I managed to find a way to block Bucky’s hydra brainwashing. We pulled the team back together. Negotiated with the accords, secured Wanda’s freedom, and started eradicating Hydra one base at a time.”

Steve lowered the gun slightly, resting his arm on his bent knee, rubbing absently at his thigh with the other.

“Go on.”

Tony sighed, sitting up, making sure to keep his hands in plain sight. “Then we get married. After a fair amount of angst, misplaced self-loathing, and miscommunication. The team was thrilled. Small reception, Bucky as your best man, Bruce as mine, and Natasha as a rather lovely flower girl.”

“So what?” Steve scoffed. “Happy endings all around? White picket fence and a fucking dog?”

Tony eyed Steve carefully. This Steve was nothing like what he was used to. He was all sharp-edges. Like he was beaten down. His Steve or not, Tony’s heart ached for him. 

“Steve,” Tony pleaded, quiet, voice sad, “what happened here?”

Steve laid the gun down entirely and pulled his knees up to his chest, a sight that made the super soldier look small somehow. 

“There’s nothing left, Tony.” Steve’s voice was almost too low to hear. “Bucky was never liberated. Project Insight succeeded. Millions of people are dead. There’s nothing left,” he repeated. “Hydra under-estimated their own weapon. The world is a dark place. I haven’t seen the sun this side of the hemisphere. Almost everyone that survived is underground. There is no Hydra. There is no World Security Council. There is no Shield.” Steve barked out a hollow laugh, “All there is, all that’s left, are a handful of people trying to survive.”

Tony was thrown and Jarvis unusually quiet. He swallowed, mouth dry, “How did you survive?”

“You have to know, Tony,” Steve started, “that I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’m sorry. So sorry for fighting you. I’m so tired. I’m tired of the hallucinations. I’m tired of the dreams. I never know what's real anymore.”

“Steve?”

“You saved me.” His voice was small, cracking in a way that hurt Tony to his core, “I don’t know how you did, but here I am, alone. Like always. Man Out of Time. Soldier without a cause.”

“Everyone?” Tony’s voice trembled.

“Dead.”

“Sir, I am afraid to say that according to my calculations you have only a 0.03 percent chance of returning home.” Jarvis sounded scared but Tony could be projecting.

“Thanks, J.”

Steve’s head snapped up, “You have Jarvis?”

“I do.”

“Can I,” Steve stuttered and moved to cross his legs, leaning forward, “can I hear him? Please?”

Tony slowly brought up Jarvis for Steve to hear.

“Captain Rogers.” Jarvis began. “A pleasure, as always, even though the circumstances seem rather dire.”

Steve let out a sob and looked to Tony, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Tony took a chance and moved forward. He reached out tentatively to cup Steve’s jaw, heart aching, as he tried to ignore the way Steve leaned into the touch.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Yes, I do.” Steve sighed, bringing a hand up to cover Tony’s, “I waited too long. Wasted too much time. I had you.” He closed his eyes, brows furrowing, jaw clenching. “I would have died with you if you had let me.”

Tony gave a small, sad smile. “You know I never could do that, Baby.”

Steve jolted slightly at the name and moved the last little bit of distance to rest his head against Tony’s chest. He seemed totally uncaring of the cold press of metal that was the Arc Reactor. He brought a hand up to card through Steve’s hair. It felt a little wrong to use that intimate nick-name. He couldn’t exactly help himself, though. This was Steve, his Steve, in every possible universe.

“I’m not strong enough,” Steve groaned into Tony’s chest, “I can’t begin to help you figure out how to get home. And if I could, I don’t think I could let you go.”

Tony closed his eyes and clutched Steve to his chest. This wasn’t a hug but a desperate embrace. He could see His Steve, all smiles and sunshine, laughing with Bucky and spending lazy mornings in bed. He saw the team, together and in one piece, Steve at the helm as their leader. Red, white, and blue forgone for black leather. No longer Captain America but a hero for the world.

He knew he couldn’t get home. 

“I won’t let you go, Steve.” Tony sighed, kissing the top of Steve’s head and giving him another squeeze, “This is home now. You’re my home now.”

Steve sobbed then, broken and a little hysterical, but somehow still with a ring of happiness. Tony joined him, silent, and prayed that they’d forgive him.


	2. Accusation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's relief before there's sorrow. There's compromise before there's even a glimmer of hope. It's the small victories.

It was almost just as hard as accepting that he wouldn’t make it home as it was that Jarvis wouldn’t be around forever. He’d never had to account for the energy his Arc Reactor had and it was impossible to tell how much energy had been used when he was sucked from his home to this one without the proper technology.

He supposes that given time and availability of resources he could get some sort of workshop up and running. He’d made energy sources out of scraps before there’s no reason to doubt he couldn’t somehow manage here.

Algorithms and probabilities were already forming in his brain. As he held Steve against his chest he was absently tracing numbers along his back. Steve’s sobs had quieted after a while and slowly turned to deep breathing as the tight press of Steve’s fingers relaxed minute by minute. The pressure of them was still heavy on Tony’s hips but more comfortable and warm. Steady and centering in a way that made him feel like it was the only thing keeping him down to earth.

“I loved you, Tony.” Steve sighed. Tony could hear the pain in his voice. “I swear I did.”

Blueprints and measurements of projects to come were pushed to the back burner of Tony’s mind. He brought his hands up to Steve’s neck and cupped his head in his hands.

“If your Tony was anything like me then I know without a doubt that he loved you, too.”

Steve chuckled and raised his head and Tony kept his hands steady on either side of his face. Tony searched his eyes and felt a keen sense at relief to see some of that darkness had faded. He smiled and wasn’t quite sure if it was more for himself or Steve.

Tony rested his head against Steve’s for a moment. This was something he’d done with his Steve so many times that it made him feel a bit like he was home. It was the strangest thing, to love someone so wholeheartedly, that he knew so completely, but had by every angle of the situation never actually known.

He kissed Steve’s forehead, lips brushing against the too-long fringe of his blonde hair, and let go.

“I want to help.” He began, keeping eye contact. “I think that given time and some hard work we could start to maybe change things around. Make everything look a little less like a Riddick movie.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed.

Tony laughed, “I forget that there’s a lot of stuff you probably haven’t seen yet. You’re not missing out too much with the Chronicles, though.”

“And you still like going on about stuff I don’t know about.” Steve quipped with a small smile.

There it was. That swell of fondness in Tony’s chest. This world hadn’t quite defeated Steve yet.

“It’s nice to see you still have a sense of humor.”

Steve laughed, stood with a stretch and a yawn before pulling Tony to his feet.

“Look.” Steve began. Tony frowned as he could see Steve’s eyes shutter. “Seeing you again, even if it isn’t the you I knew, has been more than I had ever dreamed of.” Tony sensed a ‘but’ in there somewhere and kept himself from interrupting. “But,” there it is, “I can’t deal with whatever this is with you looking at me through years of experience.”

“Steve,” Tony tried to interject.

“No, Tony, listen.” The authoritative tone was back in his voice. “I know we’re the same, in a way. I don’t know how much we have in common, your Steve and me, but I can’t be a replacement for him. I’m not going to be his shadow.”

“That’s not what this is.” Tony sighed.

Steve continued on, “I can’t give that to you. I can’t be him. And I can’t help but worry that no matter what you say I’ll always be second best.”

Tony was tired, suddenly, so very tired. He grabbed Steve’s stiff hands in his own and it was his turn to rest his head against Steve’s chest.

“I’m not saying it will be easy. I know that it’ll be hard, that there’s a learning curve. But you have to believe me when I say that there is no doubt in my mind, no delusion, that you aren't wholly different. That you aren't your own person independent of what I've known.” Tony looked up into Steve’s eyes. “You’re my Steve. A different version but mine nevertheless. Just like you can’t be the Steve I had, I can’t be the Tony you knew.”

“I know.” Steve whispered.

Tony nodded, “It’s all types of convoluted but the nature of the situation means that we know each other in some way. Like the sense of déjà vu. There’s familiarity. But we’re different for each other. So I know, even without having spent any actual time with you here, that I love you. And that’s more than enough for me to make this work.”

“So this is new?”

“As new as it can be.” Tony smiled and lead Steve to what he hoped was once his room or what was left of it. “There’s always going to be ghosts, Steve. The work for us is going to be to focus on the living.”

The room was still intact, for the most part, and Steve seemed to get the message. It was late, or at least it felt that way, and they were both exhausted.

So they both settled down and slotted together like it was something they’d done for years.

Steve fell asleep quickly and Tony’s mind wandered.

Tony could do this. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d acted purely out of selflessness. Steve, the old Steve, would say he’s wrong. Either way Tony felt like he owed everything he could give to Steve no matter which universe he was in. Steve was the love of his life.

It pained him more than he could put into words, missing Steve. The smiles, the laugh, the feel of his hair, the gleam in his eyes – these were constants. Memory doesn’t cross inter-dimensional planes, though. He’d thought, briefly, of sharing every moment with this world’s Steve. Recounting every touch, every kiss, every early-morning breakfast, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

They were different and the same in the most painful of ways but those memories belonged to the Steve he knew. The Steve he knows now deserves his own experiences. He deserves to make his own memories. So Tony tries, and god knows it’s hard, to forget the Steve he left in favor of the Steve he’s with.

It feels wrong, for a split second, in the dark of the night with the familiar weight of a muscled arm around his stomach. Like he’s cheating and the guilt rises like bile before he swallows, clears his throat, and tries to push back the thought that he’s betraying his husband. It’s so hard. He tells himself that Steve will always be his no matter what the fabric of space-time tells him or where the worm-hole leads.

So he pulls Steve closer to his chest, the cool wind blocked by torn, hanging plastic as they huddle for warmth under a mound of old blankets on the bed. There’s a pang in his chest when he realizes that of all the places Steve could have stayed this is the one he chose.

There’s a grumble, soft and unintelligible words mumbled against his neck, warm air sending chills down his spine. Steve stirs and Tony still has no idea what time it is but he knows they should still be sleeping. That he's keeping Steve up.

“I can hear you thinking.” Steve lifts his head to give Tony a small smile before returning to the crook of his neck. “Always could. Cogs and gears grinding and groaning.”

Tony’s smile is genuine and he kisses the top of Steve’s head, pulling the blankets around them a little tighter. Steve hums in contentment.

“Been cold for so long,” Steve sighs, “I was in the ice for seventy years and the coldest I’ve ever been was when you weren’t here.”

Tony skims his hand up and down Steve’s back, memorizing all over again the dip of his spine and the ridges of his ribs. His shirt is thin and worn, smooth and soft to the touch and almost not worth wearing.

It was strange, Tony thought, to be the stronger of the two of them. The way he saw it this was his penance. It wasn’t a chore, by any means, it felt right. He would be more than happy to carry Steve this time.

A decision was made. Tony made a show of taking off his wedding band. Steve was more alert now, watching him like a hawk with no small amount of hope muddled with suspicion.

“I wasn’t lying when I said that you were my home now, Steve.” Tony said, tone hushed as he tossed the ring away, hearing it clatter and roll into silence. Steve’s hand enveloped his, warm and heavy. It was silent for a moment and Tony burned it into his memory. The start of his new life.

Steve settled back down with a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Muscles Tony didn’t realize were tense along Steve’s back relaxed as he seemed to sink into Tony’s side. It was comfortable.

Tony tightened his grip on Steve’s hip and shifted to look into his eyes. They were still the bluest things he had ever seen and he was suddenly overtaken by the urge to make this world right again. He’d like to see the sky lit up by the sun against a backdrop of that color.

“You won’t be cold again, Steve, I promise.” Tony swore and he believed himself. Conviction pulsing through him like it was his damn life-blood.

“There is more than one way to keep me warm, Tony.”

The statement was phrased like a question. Steve was testing the waters and Tony could see it in his eyes. Hope. This was Steve’s second chance. He couldn’t be the Tony that Steve had lost but he could try to be the Tony that he deserved.

With no preamble at all, Tony twisted in Steve’s grasp to straddle him. Calloused hands gripped his hips in a way that was just a touch on the side of too tight like Steve was still afraid this was going to all slip away.

Tony slid his hands up Steve’s chest, hands hard and rough as if to confirm he was real, and moved across a corded neck up into silky blond hair.

“Tell me now.” Tony was breathless. “Tell me you want this.”

“For as long as you’ll have me.” Steve replied, smile bright and crooked.

Tony laughed and descended on his lips with a fervent clash of teeth. He leaned into Steve as hard as he could, one hand coming down to rest over Steve’s rapid heartbeat, and poured every bit of himself into the kiss as he could.

They found their rhythm in their own time. Different for Tony and wholly new for Steve. They pulled back at the same time for breath and Tony chuckled, resting his forehead against Steve’s. Their eyes closed for seconds that felt sobering – grounding, even – and when Tony opened his eyes Steve looked so blissful. Smile content and peaceful.

Tony eased himself down onto Steve’s chest with his ear over his heart. Cataloging its slow decline into a resting heartbeat. A possessive arm snaked over his waist and Tony threw a leg over one of Steve’s toned ones and found that he was comfortable and could be more than happy here.

Anything for Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! We have 28 more chapters to go so get ready, buddies. The plot will thicken.


	3. Restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relapse. Despair. Hauntings and tangible reality. Tony's really here and suddenly it feels like the last few years have been worth every second now that he isn't alone. Plans need to be made and Tony already has his gears turning. Steve hasn't felt so safe and terrified in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, y'all, that this one took so long. My sister and her fiance got evicted and I've been scrambling to help her, get a job, and look for a place for the three of us to live. Crazy times. Anyway, I hope you like it!

When Steve woke up he was alone.

First there is panic. Tony had felt so real in his arms. He had felt warm for the first time in years and slept well. There had been no dreams, no nightmares - just rest. He distinctly remembered smelling the essence of Tony. Heady mixes of oil, sweat, and expensive cologne. It was slightly different than before but he could place it nevertheless.

It’s so quiet.

He sat up slowly. The blankets and pillows don’t tell much. It’s all so rumpled and worn; a large collection that’s been amassed into a nest. He wasn’t sure if the lingering smell of cologne was all in his head or not.

Even when sleeping the days seemed to blur together. There was close to no sun and the city was silent beneath him. It was all a special kind of hell.

Steve tried taking in a deep breath. His heart was hammering away inside his chest and the breath came out as a choked sob. There’s nothing. He’s alone.

Another sob.

He put his head in his hands and breathed more purposefully. It was so clear this time. Tony was here. A different one but Tony all the same. He felt the Arc Reactor, he could still remember the feel of Tony’s hands on his face, and the softness of his lips.

It had been so real.

The sobs had stopped in favor for silent tears. Hands moved from his face and into his hair as his fingers pulled at the blonde strands harshly. Heart heavy, chest tight, and panic mixed with equal parts fury, sadness, and bubbling acceptance. Hallucinations, both visual and auditory, were par for the course. He should have known.

“Would it have mattered?” Steve whispered to himself, falling back to lay down and stare up at the ceiling.

No. Hallucinations or not they were all he had. Hearing Clint in the vents. Seeing a flash of Natasha’s red hair or the tell-tale crimson spark of Wanda’s magic. Seeing Sam soaring above. And Tony. Always Tony.

But for the first time he had gotten to touch. His heart clenches at the memory. If this was insanity then he would go gladly. He’d rather have the phantoms than nothing at all.

It was then that he heard a loud clatter outside the room.

Steve leaped from the bed, his mind already switching gears into something that was blank and single-minded. He pulled his gun out from underneath a pillow and moved silently into the living room, eyes flat.

Tony was there.

He was on the floor surrounded by pieces of his suit and a small collection of tools. Steve hadn’t made any noise but Tony seemed to know he was there anyway. Tony flashed Steve a bright, slightly manic smile that did more to knock the breath out of Steve than a forearm shiver to the diaphragm ever had.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” Tony wiped the back of his hand against his forehead, smearing oil into sweat. “Sorry I left you alone in bed. I got a little,” Tony shook his hands and widened his eyes, “and I didn’t want to wake you.”

Steve blinked his eyes a few times as if to make sure he was actually there. He didn’t miss the way Tony’s eyes flickered to his gun.

“You real?” Steve asked, voice stronger than he felt, as he lowered the gun to his side.

Tony offered him a sad smile and stood slowly before making his way over to Steve to plant his hands on either side of Steve’s face.

“I’m here.” He murmured, thumbs tracing Steve’s cheekbones while his dark brown eyes locked onto Steve’s own blue ones. “I’m still here, dollface.”

Steve knew Tony was making fun of him, albeit in a good-natured way, and funnily enough the joking tone relaxed him.

“Please.” Steve began, bringing his free hand up to cover one of Tony’s. He couldn’t seem to finish his sentence.

Tony read him well enough, but then again, he always could. “Next time I’ll wait.”

Steve closed his eyes for a second and relief like sunshine warmed him. Tony kissed Steve’s forehead and slid his hands from Steve’s face, fingers twining with his for a moment, squeezing, before he stepped back.

“I found your stash of food and left you out some water and an MRE.” Tony sat back down on the floor and patted the cool stone next to him in invitation. “Have a seat. I’ll let you eat before I start in on the questions.”

Steve sat and dug in, ignoring the near-constant nausea in favor of swallowing down something that was trying desperately to be chicken but was falling far too short.

“Go ahead.” He says hoping a distraction will make the meal less sad.

“How long has it been? Since,” Tony just gestured around himself.

“I want to say it’s been about a three and a half years. Maybe four.” Steve ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends. “I’ve been doing my best to keep track of the days but I lose chunks of time.”

“It’s ok.” Tony’s mouth has a downward pull to it. “I just wanted to know.”

Steve didn’t like Tony frowning like that. “Next question.”

“How low are you on supplies?”

“I’ve got another year of MREs, six months now that you’re here. Water is pretty easy, though. The rain here isn’t good to drink straight but I boil the hell out of it and then filter it with one of your water purification prototypes I found in your lab.”

Tony looks off into the middle distance, thinking. “I’m going to have a look at it then.” A smile. “Any lingering toxins in the water are probably taken care of with your Super Soldier Serum but I am but a simple, fragile being.”

Steve doesn’t believe that. Broken, sure, but not fragile. Tony was formidable it was just that all things break under different amounts of pressure. Though, he guesses in the context of poisons and viruses Tony is less likely to have the immune system Steve has.

“I also have a small garden on the edge of the city.” Steve pushes on. “It’s on top of a high-rise. Took me half a year to gather supplies. Good soil is hard to come by and the irrigation system was time-consuming to make.”

Tony looks surprised for a half a second before smirking, “It’s nice to see that in any universe you’re handy and capable.”

Steve doesn’t feel that way but he isn’t about to call Tony a liar.

“It’s under tarps and raised up off the roof a little to avoid contamination with unfiltered rain water. It doesn’t produce much but it’s nice to have fresh vegetables and fruit occasionally to break up the sad monotony of MREs.”

Tony nods, “Ok. So first order of business is coming up with a better model. You’ve got something good going on here, Steve, but we can make it better.”

“I trust you.” Steve says, catching himself off guard. He feels a slight trickle of alarm trickle down his spine. It’s been so long since he’s trusted anyone. It’s been even longer since there’s been anyone to trust. He swallows and tries to tamper down the first bubbles of panic before it boils over.

“Great!” Tony says, smile blinding, and it helps a little. Then his face goes a little shuttered, like he’s worried about a response, “How would you feel about trying to move somewhere else?”

Steve looks into Tony’s eyes. They’re just a few shades darker than his Tony’s were. Impossibly brown and expressive framed by long, dark lashes. There’s hope there, Steve can see it. It’s such a novel thing. He latches onto that hope. The glimmer of it in Tony’s eyes is enough to convince him. He may not believe in hope anymore but as long as Tony does he’s going to do his best to keep it that way.

“Sure.” Steve decides and then figures he should go for broke. “I’ve only stayed because this was the last tie I had to everyone. To you.”

Tony looks sad for a moment but not surprised. Like he knew. It’s nothing close to pity, though. Just sad.

“Yeah.” He sighs, “I’ve done something similar before.”

Tony isn’t sure when or if he’ll admit it but he’d stayed in Steve’s room a lot after their fight. After Bucky and the Accords. He knows what it’s like to need to be surrounded by something familiar, even if it hurts as much as it helps.

Steve feels the need to get the conversation back on track. They’re both obviously broken people but that doesn’t mean that everything needs to be sadness and ghosts. The future is now. Each new moment is special and he knows that neither of them can move forward if they don’t get out of the past first.

“Next question.” Steve prods.

“What was the last contact you had with other parts of the world?”

Steve swallowed and watched Tony’s nimble fingers parse through wires, “Natasha. In Uzbekistan.”  

“What did she say?”

Steve frowned, scraping the inside of his MRE with his fork. He remembered that day clearly. It was the day he started losing hope.

“She and Sam had been on Bucky’s tail.” He set the last of his food aside, nausea overwhelming. “They’d managed to survive Project Insight somehow. Never found out how exactly.” Steve sighed, “She told me Sam had died on a run for supplies. People were going crazy. Water and food are precious commodities.”

“Is she still alive?”

“I don’t know.” Steve admitted. “The end of her call was just gunfire and static. I’d like to think she made it but it’s been more than a year." He's quiet for a second. He wants Tony to hope, god knows he wants to again, but he doesn't want to face Tony's disappointment either. "Hope is dangerous now.”

Tony’s hands stilled for a moment before working again double time, “Why?”

“Because hope gets you killed. If you’re anywhere but the present you’re dead. Hope and fear are hand in hand here, Tony. Both distract.”

“You’re not afraid?”

“Not anymore.” Steve sighed and took a swig of his water. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh,” Tony laughed nervously, “I don’t really know.”

Steve is struck then by the realization that Tony is in shock and Steve’s thrown through a loop. He can’t believe he missed it. He knew that his Tony had some problems with PTSD. For whatever reason it had escaped him that this Tony could possibly have similar issues.

“Are you ok?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” Tony closed his eyes and sighed, grinding his palm into his eye. “You know what? No.” Tony’s shoulders pulled back as his spine straightened. “I’m not going to do this.”

Steve feels his stomach drop uncomfortably, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to hide what I’m feeling anymore.” Tony smiled, “This is new. Us, I mean. But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn from my past mistakes.”

Warmth floods Steve’s chest. A smile forms without warning and he’s overwhelmed by the sudden need to just hold Tony. There’s something forming in the back of his mind, though. Dark and sad with more than his fair share of hollowness.

A voice, whispering, _“You’re not good enough for him. You’re not good enough for anything.”_

“You’re stronger than me, then.” He says, unable to keep the words to himself. Steve feels betrayed by his own mind. Being alone has ruined his ability to filter his speech.

Tony puts a hand on Steve’s leg. It’s heavy, warm, and so incredibly centering. In this moment he feels anchored and it gives him a certain clarity he hasn’t had for a while.

“You’re strong, Steve.” Tony squeezes his thigh. “There isn’t a singular strength. Being strong isn’t just one thing. You can be strong in more ways than one and you don’t have to be in all of them, either.”

There’s a part of Steve that believes him and another part hissing, _“Liar.”_

Steve shakes his head like it’ll shake the voice loose and gives Tony a smile. “Thanks, Tony.”

“No problem.” Tony shifts and leans forward into Steve’s space. “Now, come over here and kiss me. Then we’ll talk about plans.”

Steve’s stomach drops again, in a good way this time, and he’s a little dizzy with the feeling.

“Yes, sir.”


	4. Snowflake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is coming and Tony is highkey freaking out. Steve's got a problem of his own.

Winter is creeping up and Tony is terrified.

“How did you deal with it? There’s no insulation, the windows are busted open, and there’s no reserve power left for heat!”

Tony’s getting himself worked up, he knows, but the idea of the coming winter is causing a panic to overtake him and he’s not quite sure why. The first snowflakes have fallen. It’s the mark of the changing seasons. Their fresh food supply is dwindling and with the first frost anything left dies off.

Tony’s not built for winter. Extreme heat isn’t good for him either so the middle seasons like spring and fall work best.

He can’t believe how long he’s been here.

Steve, his old Steve, has faded a bit. Not much, but just enough to feel a bit like a dream. New Steve has changed over the time Tony’s been here. He’s still careful, cautious, and damaged but hell, who isn’t?

“I just,” Steve shrugs, “dealt with it.”

Tony marvels at Steve’s survivability and Steve turns from him. His muscled back flexing with movement as he curls in on himself. They’re in bed, settling down for the night, and something dawns on Tony.

Steve’s been pulling away from him. And that’s no good at all.

“Steve?” Tony tries, speaking to Steve’s back like he’s speaking to a wall.

There’s a sigh, “What?”

“Is there something wrong?”

Another shrug and he rolls in tighter if it’s even possible. Tony reaches out this time. He rests his hand for a moment on Steve’s hip before snaking it around his front and pulling himself to hug against Steve’s back.

There’s a tense moment where Tony wonders if he’s somehow overstepped or misread the situation. Steve’s coiled tight and for the barest of seconds he thinks he may have to pull away.

And then Steve relaxes, “This is the first time you’ve touched me in a week.”

Tony opens his mouth to refute him but quickly realizes he’s right. Tony’s been so caught up in his own memories, his work, and just generally being _Tony Stark_ that he’s effectively abandoned Steve physically.

Guilt, strong and heavy, settles in his stomach and he snuggles closer. He imagines that they look kind of funny like this. Tony’s small form trying to contort and nestle as close as he can to Steve’s much larger one.

“I’m sorry.” Tony says, and he means it. “I didn’t mean it on purpose. I just get-“

“Distracted,” Steve sighs, relaxing more, “I know.”

Tony kisses the middle of Steve’s back and is pleased when it’s met with a small shiver. He catalogues the reaction.

“You’re still mine.” Tony reiterates. “All mine and perfect.”

That does it. Steve turns in his arms and grabs Tony tight, bringing him to his chest. Steve smells so _human._ Sweat, musk, and that fragrance that is so intensely Steve that it’s practically cloying.

“I’m not perfect.” Steve mutters into his hair. “Not like you.”

Tony laughs and runs a hand up from hip to pec, hoping for another shiver and getting one, “If we fight about who’s perfect we’ll be here forever doing it.”

“I’m ok with forever as long as it’s with you.” Steve says.

He’s so open and honest with his feelings that Tony can barely keep down a moan. Honesty must be a kink of his. How very vanilla.

Tony slots his leg in-between Steve’s, “You’re a sweet talker.”

“Always was for you.” Steve admits with a roll of his hips and Tony’s attention is suddenly brought to the hard press of Steve’s dick against his thigh. Steve has his bottom lip stuck between his teeth and the image practically kills Tony.

Tony grinds back, his own hardening with the contact and the intense, debauched look Steve was already wearing.

“You, ngh,” Tony groans when Steve rolls his hips nice and slow, “you know what you’re doing.”

Steve laughs low in his chest and Tony revels in the sound, “Well, I’m not America’s Virgin. I know a thing or two.”

With that, Steve teases him a little bit and hovers over Tony, grinding slow and hard down against his hips. Tony can’t believe he’s missed his shot at this for the last week.

“Plus,” Steve continues, like he’s unfazed, “this is just one in the long list of things I’ve wanted to do to you.”

Tony groans but snaps his hips up and gives them a good, hard roll. The resounding moan Steve lets out is worth every worry he’s had about the coming winter. There’s enough heat right now to last them until tomorrow. This is why you should put off what you should do today for tomorrow.

“My list is longer.” Tony smiles, “And more creative.”

“Wanna bet?” Steve asks, playful look in his eyes as he inches his face closer.

It’s almost painfully slow, the coming kiss, like Steve still isn’t sure. Tony races up to meet him, melting into a deliberate and measured clash of tongues and teeth, and sighs. Arousal pulses low in his stomach and his hands move across the expanse of hard muscle that is Steve to find the hem of his worn shirt and remove it.

“Moving fast.” Steve chuckles.

Tony groans, “If I had it my way we’d be halfway through prep for you to be inside me while I grasped for whatever I could to keep myself grounded.”

Steve chokes and his hips stutter for a moment, “That’s unfair, Tony.”

“You said you had ideas.” Tony says as he manages to get Steve out of his shirt and his own off. “Let’s see those ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such an ass with these CLIFFHANGERS. lmao. more writing to come!

**Author's Note:**

> So I do prompts holla at me @spacefucker on tumblr.


End file.
